Roommates
by warmfluffypastries
Summary: They aren't in a relationship…in fact they just share an apartment, a one bedroom apartment…and if asked they will say they are nothing more than roommates, who happen to sleep with each other…and no one else.


i.

They aren't in a relationship…in fact they just share an apartment, a one bedroom apartment…and if asked they will say they are nothing more than roommates, who happen to sleep with each other…and no one else.

She's honestly surprised that they manage to catch each other most of the time, he works nights and she has class most days, it seems like ninety percent of their 'hookups' occur in the early hours of the morning when he's just getting home and she's just waking up.

For the past week though, she's been impossible to wake up and Puck is positive there is something seriously wrong. His eyes pop open when the alarm goes off, she doesn't even flinch, "Lopez," he grunts, nudging her shoulder, "you've got class."

"Oh my god," she groans, rolling her head further into her pillow, "I feel like shit."

"You're not pregnant are you?" he questions with a laugh and she just punches his shoulder as she stumbles from the bed.

"Don't even fucking joke about that Puckerman."

ii.

She starts getting headaches in the afternoons, which she's determined to blame on her pre-law class. She thinks anyone that has to read 130 pages a night should have a headache.

"Could be pregnant?" Puck offers, placing a kiss against her hair as he hurries about, already late for his night shift.

"Shut up Puck," she groans, rubbing at her temples, "I don't think headaches are associated with pregnancy."

iii.

He's noticed that she stopped wearing a bra, he doesn't really know why he's so insistent on thinking she's pregnant. Something about her entire person had changed nearly two weeks ago.

"That shit hurts," he groans, it's his night off and she's partially laying against his side as they watch TV. She just punched him in the thigh, way too close to his dick if you ask him, "you're awfully moody."

"Stop staring at my tits, they already hurt enough as it is," she grumbles, "and I swear to god if you mention pregnancy my aim will seriously improve," she rotates her elbow inward so it sits closer to crotch.

He smartly keeps his mouth shut, shifting her arm back up onto his thigh.

iv.

She's started carrying water with her everywhere, her throat always seems to be dry.

"Are you seriously taking another piss?" Puck asks, as she stands from the table at a small café. He managed to drag himself out of bed to have lunch. She just finished taking the LSAT and she's on her way home to sleep.

"Yes," she hisses, he turns to watch her walk away can't help but notice how her hips seem to have an added sway. He's been staring at her ass since he was 13 he notices minute changes.

"I think I've drank more water in the last week, than in the last year," she grumbles sinking back into her seat, "and peed twice as much."

"You know what I'm going to say," he grinned.

"You're a dumbass," she grunts, a well-aimed kick silencing his further comments.

v.

"What are you doing?" he questions. Coming into the apartment at three am he expects to find her passed out, instead he finds her curled up against the side of the tub, her head resting on the toilet seat.

"Hoping I don't puke my guts out," she mumbles, not even glancing in his direction.

"How's that non-pregnancy working out for you?" he wants to laugh, at the hand that shoots out to hit him, but misses because she has yet to move her head.

"It's just the flu," she grunts.

vi.

She's tired of the horrible wooden chairs in the lecture halls at NYU. She knows they're to blame for the excruciating pain in her lower back. She's been tired so she slacked off on going to the gym, her postures suffering and because of that her back aches.

She thinks if she asks Puck to massage he'll just ramble about how she's probably pregnant it's all he's talked about for the last month. She makes sure to hit him every time, it's becoming a Pavlovian response, he practically flinches every time they see a pregnant woman in public.

"What is wrong now?" he questions as she shifts next to him, she doesn't have classes because she's supposed to be studying, but she thinks she could pass these classes in her sleep, the hard stuff is coming next semester.

"My back kills," she shifts again, her elbow banging into his ribs as she tries to massage it herself.

"C'mon," he pulls her arm until he convinces her to lie out on the bed, "will you please consider this?"

"Puck, I swear to god," her grumble turns into a moan as he massages into her lower back.

"Just saying."

vii.

"Fuck that feels amazing," she groans, he's pounding into her. It's the first time in a week and before that it had been nearly three.

"You're tits are amazing," he flips them, watching her bounce above him. He cups the two globes, noting that his assumption from a few weeks before is correct, they are bigger.

"Implants," she grins, but links their fingers and pulls his hands away. He sends her a questioning look; he hardly ever gets denied access, "PMS." That's the only excuse he ever gets too.

"Damn," he sighs, when she rolls off of him. She uses a hand to pull the hair away from her face, she's breathing heavy and he can't help but watch the way her boobs rise and fall, "that was good."

"Stop staring," she flicks his chin.

"Your nipples look weird," he comments anyway, letting his eyes re-linger.

"They do not," she scoffs, rolling out of the bed and heading for the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"To throw up," she slams the door behind her.

"You are totally pregnant!" he shouts, the only response he gets is the sound of her retching.

viii.

He's mostly just joking with her, except he starts to think he's actually right. He comes home to find Chinese takeout on the coffee table and leftover Mexican on the counter. It all appears to be half eaten and then he spies the makings for peanut butter and banana sandwiches left on the kitchen table.

From what he remembered, Quinn's only craving was bacon, but in general she just loved to eat. He hoped Santana had a better craving, than that non-kosher shit. He cleans up, because he knows it she wakes up to this in a few hours she'll just bitch about she often cleans up after him.

She's basically naked when he crawls into bed. And even though it's mid-December and practically freezing in their tiny apartment, she's thrown the covers off as well. The lights from the street illuminate the room enough, that he notices shadows where her panties are apparently digging into her hips. He can also see the red lines near her boobs where her bra normally sits.

He figures she's in denial because he just turned 22 and she's still a few months shy. He's managed to get promoted to night manager at the packing/shipping company he works for, but she's still got one semester left of undergrad before law school. Her LSAT scores are due in less than a month and then she'll have to decide where she wants to go. He knows that NYU and Columbia have both offered her scholarships on her transcripts, but they are conditional to her scores on the LSAT.

It's possible she could choose a school further away, it's probably the worst time something like this could happen to them. Not that there would ever be a good time considering they never seem to be able to define their relationship, but he doesn't think it would be terrible.

ix.

She is going to kill him, that's her only thought as she fills a basket full of pregnancy tests at the drug store on their corner. She already took one in the washroom, it was positive.

"Damn sperm," she should have known that if she continues to sleep with him it'd be inevitable. He'd impregnated Quinn on the first try, of course his swimmers would work their way through a condom and her birth control.

She pees like a fuckin' race horse, not like that's a surprise. She feels like she's been peeing non-stop for weeks. She lines up the twenty different tests on the island counter. If it weren't for her missed period she would blame all of her symptoms on PMS, which was really shitty if you thought about it. Whoever decided on menstruation needed to be shot, because she literally goes through feeling like a pregnant woman for two days every month, and then she gets to bleed for a week; just to do it all over again.

This time she knows she can officially blame it on her asshole of a roommate (guess she'll have to stop calling him that now). She reads each test with a laugh, and she falls asleep on the couch waiting for him to wake up.

x.

He figures it all out in less than a week, what they're going to do. After coming home to a sleeping pregnant woman, he begged his boss to move him to days.

He gets demoted to assistant manager (but gets paid more), but at least now they have a relatively normal schedule. They were supposed to go home for a week at Christmas, but he now has to work so he sets up a small tree in the corner of their apartment, even manages to find a menorah even though Hanukah had passed.

She thinks that maybe they can work this whole thing out, "I'm sorry," she murmurs early on Christmas morning, "about the past month."

"It's cool," he murmurs, his eyes are closed but she can tell he can't sleep any more than she can.

"I can't believe I'm carrying your spawn," she chuckles; he would almost say she giggles but she would hit him for even thinking it.

"Hey," he grunts, "he can hear you, and he doesn't appreciate being called a spawn."

"You're really happy about this aren't you?" she turns to him, and can't help but grin when his eyes sleepily open.

"'Course," he smiled, "it's a baby, what's not to be happy about. "this is a good thing 'Tana. I know everything is kind of up in the air right now but we can just take it as it comes."

"I love you," she murmurs and wants to laugh when his eyes widen. "I know we never say it, hell we don't even admit we're basically in a committed relationship."

"Love you too," he nods, "now go to sleep."


End file.
